


Tunnel's End

by Aegir



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Civil War Credits Scene Fix-it, Drunk Supersoldiers, Infinity War Prelude Comic, M/M, Pre-Infinity War, Steve and Bucky need to talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-04 09:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14017668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegir/pseuds/Aegir
Summary: Bucky is dreading the trigger words removal diagnosis.  Steve brings Asgardian ale.Inspired by the Infinity War Prelude comic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So Marvel's (kind-of canonical) Prelude to Infinity War comic went and fixed most of my problems with the Civil War mid-credit! According to the comic the cyrofreeze was a necessary part of the search for a trigger words cure, and the scene happens after several weeks of diagnosis. Since I greatly prefer this version of events I came up with a small story to explain why Steve and Bucky both have bruises if the scene is weeks after the Siberian fight.

Bucky Barnes is afraid.

This isn’t new.  He honestly can’t remember what it’s like not to be afraid all the time.  Even HYDRA hadn’t erased – probably hadn’t wanted to erase – the constant fear of the next punishment.  This time though it’s a concrete terror.  This time he knows what is going to happen, when it’s going to happen, and what may be worst of all he knows he could still back out of it.  This time he is choosing something terrifying, and the fact his fear might still win is a whole new fear in itself.

It’s some sort of vicious joke, or possibly a cosmic punishment.  Thinking of it as punishment helps a little, actually.  The idea that there could be some kind of fix for everything HYDRA had put in his head that wouldn’t involve putting him through hell had always been too good to be true, and far better than he deserves. 

He believes T’Challa’s assurances, at least the more rational part of his mind does.  He’s spent weeks talking to Wakandan doctors and scientists, undergoing tests, battling his distrust for all medical professionals to try to give honest answers to their questions.  Steve believes the Wakandans are trustworthy, and Bucky still trusts that Steve is a good man, whatever else he believes, he believes that.  So he choked down a distrust the Wakandans have done nothing to deserve.  And if T’Challa’s team are certain the only way to find a cure is to freeze him first in order to analyse his brain then that’s just the way it is.

Cyrofreeze.  It’s not top of his nightmare list, but it’s pretty high up.  T’Challa has talked about the Wakandan process being ‘humane’ and ‘painless’.  Bucky’s gut doesn’t believe it, and even if he did being strapped down, sealed in a box and turned into a helpless object to be kept and moved and frozen entirely at the whims of others ... it makes him feel sick. But there’s no better choice.

_I can’t trust my mind until they can find a way to get rid of everything HYDRA put in my head._

_I have to do this._

He’s been trying to focus on hope.  Hope this might work, that they might be able to cut the worst, most horrifying of HYDRA’s remaining chains.  But he can’t see beyond the morning.    They’ve told him the pod won’t be ready until tomorrow, and he accepts that.  He just wants it to be done.

He recognises Steve’s footsteps before his … friend (Steve insists they are, Bucky still has a hard time accepting he is forgiven) comes in.  Bucky wonders if he’s going to start in on ‘Do you remembers’ again.  Now the Zemo threat is over it seems to be what Steve wants to talk about.  Problem is that half the time Bucky _doesn’t_ remember, in which case the conversation gets awkward fast.  Still, he’d welcome almost any distraction right now.

“Nat got hold of some stuff from my old Avengers apartment,” Steve says, slightly awkwardly.

“Oh?  That’s good.”  Steve had never been a hoarder, but he may have changed, Bucky supposes.  He finds himself covertly watching this man sometimes and wondering how much of his Steve is still there.  The lack of self-preservation hasn’t changed anyway.

Steve is holding a rather oddly shaped … bottle?  Jar?  Flask?  Any of those words would cover it.  “Thor brought me this from Asgard.  You said the other day, you wished you could still get drunk.”  Bucky remembers.  It had been a bad day with the head doctors.  “Well,” Steve says.  “This gets me drunk.  How about we share?”

It’s such a kind offer Bucky almost doesn’t know what to say.  Steve Rogers punching people because he’s decided there’s an injustice somewhere is rather like water being wet.  But offering to share the one thing that can get him drunk (and damn, but Bucky has missed that, it’s probably a good thing he can’t get drunk anymore or he’d have drunk himself into a permanent coma), that’s friendship.

“Only if we go up to the roof,” he says, and in the moment he’s only thinking the stars above Wakanda are beautiful, but in the next moment he remembers passing a bottle of beer backward and forward on a roof above Brooklyn, and wonders if that was in his mind all the time.

The stars are beautiful, the breeze is fresh, and at the first mouthful of Asgardian ale Bucky starts to believe it might actually do something for him.  “So, what’s Thor like?” he says, trying to shatter the silence. 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve says. 

“That all?  He’s an alien with a magic hammer that’s been worshipped as a god, there must be more.”

“He’s not how that makes him sound.”  Steve takes the flask and seems to search in his mind for a moment before saying, “There was this one time…”  Once he gets started, tongue perhaps loosened by his own swigs of ale, it turns out he has a bunch of stories about Thor and also Bruce Banner.  At some point Bucky stops really following them, and just lets himself enjoy being on a roof with stars and Steve’s voice. 

Sometime later they’re singing.  “Bless ‘em all, Bless ‘em all, the long, the short and the tall.” The Howlies had always sung that one when they (most of them anyway) had been too drunk to remember words properly. “So cheer up, my lads, bless ‘em all!”

“We, we should go down,” Steve slurs.  They should, Bucky remembers.  Tomorrow is important.  They successfully haul each other upright, then as they head for the stairs, Steve decides to switch songs, and starts carolling, “Goodnight, ladies, goodnight ladies….”  Trying to join in, Bucky misses his footing at the top step, and without his arm doesn’t have good enough balance to recover it.  Steve makes a grab, lunges too far and they both go headlong down the flight. 

Bucky really doesn’t care at all, in fact all he can do is laugh.  “World’s greatest supersoldiers and we can’t even get down a flight of stairs.  And your singing is still horrible.”

“Oh, shut up,” says Steve, who has somehow landed underneath Bucky.  He twists, trying to pull himself out, in the process bringing their faces close together.  That’s when he stops moving and starts … looking.

Bucky had been aware in a distant sort of way that he had once found Steve devastatingly attractive, but had never acted on it, because Steve didn’t need something else that was likely to get him beat up.   Like with a lot of other things there had been no life to the memory, no feeling.  Now though he’s suddenly, powerfully, remembering exactly what it feels like to want Steve Rogers.  In the same moment he’s aware that Steve is leaning up towards him, for a few seconds everything is strangely slow as he knows he could pull back and he’s not going to and … oh that feels good.  Even better than the first time he had a hot dog in this century.

Steve pulls away too fast, unfortunately.  “Buck, I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“Shut up, Steve.” Bucky says, and kisses him again.  This time is even better.

Eventually the floor does get too uncomfortable and they stagger as far as Steve’s room, which is nearer and collapse together onto Steve’s bed, which is too small for both of them, but right now neither one cares.  By then the alcohol is hitting pretty hard and they soon fall asleep, wrapped round each other. 

Next day the bruises from the fall are showing.  Bucky bites back a joke about looking like they’ve both gone another ten rounds with Tony Stark.  His jokes now tend to be bleaker than Steve likes. 

Instead he says, “Steve.  If last night was just the drink, tell me now.”

And Steve looks him in the eyes, and says “It wasn’t just the drink.”  Three seconds later they are kissing again. 

He could question how long Steve has wanted this, but right now it doesn’t matter.  He’s not going to ask Steve to wait for him.  If Steve ends up with someone else while Bucky is back being an icicle (that blonde agent he kissed in Germany maybe) well, Steve deserves all the happiness there is.

But he’s going to hope.  He’s going to go in there with the thought in his mind that when the Wakandans are done rewriting his brain then maybe… maybe….  The memory of kissing Steve will a beam of hope to take into the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter turned out a bit more angsty than I intended, and is also a bit rough, because I wanted to get it posted before Infinity War. It will likely be the last, unless IW gives me new inspiration.

Wakandan sunsets are beautiful, but Bucky thinks the sunrises may be even better.  His sleep patterns are all over the place, but he doesn’t really mind.  Waking up in the night means he gets to see the sun come up across the lake.

That’s where Shuri finds him.  She’s come several times now.  The first he’d still been in a bad way.  The Wakandan awakening progress had, as T‘Challa had promised, been far better than HYDRA’s; but when the reality of having lost more time had sunk in it had triggered a full-blown relapse, spinning him back to the barely human first weeks after escaping.  He’d been furious and frustrated with himself later, but at least he hadn’t hurt anyone.  The next time he’d been better and had managed to thank her.  She’d smiled and taken him to see a range of designs for a new arm, which had left him breathless, that the Wakandans would trust him enough to re-arm him (yes, that’s a horrible pun, he’s allowed to make horrible puns if he wants) had not been something he expected. 

Neither had had Kholu, the spirit healer they’d introduced him to.  He’d hated the idea, but she had no resemblance to Faustus or any other HYDRA doctor.  They talked in Italian – she was a former War Dog – as Bucky’s Wakandan was still limited.  She knew a lot of swear words.

Shuri is smirking this morning.  “A surprise for you.”

“It’s not another self-fastening hair tie?” Bucky says suspiciously.  That one had felt as if he had an outsize spider on his head. 

“Come and see.”

The ‘surprise’ is in a hut the Wakandans use for storage.  Allowing Bucky to see some of the more advanced teach in there had been another of the signs of trust that took his breath away.  He wonders if Shuri has a new project that she’s excited about, or an older one she wants to show him.  Those ‘sneakers’ had been pretty great, even if he dislikes that his first thought had been how useful they’d be on a mission.

It’s not new tech.

“Hi Buck.”  Steve, in civvies, looking slightly sheepish.

“Hi,” Bucky says, stupidly.  Silence starts to stretch, and to fill it he adds, “I like the beard.  Suits you.  Makes you look less like an overgrown boy scout.””

“Yeah, that was the idea.  You look good too.  Although if you’re trying to blend in, I gotta say I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

“You might just be right there,” Bucky agrees, looking down at the pale Irish skin of his remaining arm.  “You deep cover here or can we get some air?”

“Nah, Shuri just wanted me to surprise you.”  Bucky realises belatedly that Shuri has vanished, which is unusually tactful of her.  It’s an odd thing to think about someone who is both a genius and a princess but she reminds of his sister Becca.

Outside there is still something of the first freshness of dawn in the light although the sun is climbing higher.  "So,” Bucky asks sitting down on a bank, “What’s the fight?”

“You really think I came here to pull you into a fight.”  Steve sounds a little sad as he sits beside Bucky, not quite touching. 

“Steve.  It’s you.  There’s always a fight.”

“It doesn’t have to be yours.  I didn’t come here to ask for back-up.”

Bucky stares at the lake.  “Shuri’s making me a new arm.  She’s taking her time, says she wants to get everything right.  But I think she’s trying to keep me here.  It’s a good move.  I can fight with one arm, but I’m a lot better with two.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Wanting’s not the point.  I killed a lot of people.  Can’t turn myself in – a bullet in the head would be the best outcome.” He doesn’t need to specify the worst.  Lab rat, or killer dog for some other group. He can't risk either of those.

“Buck, how many times do I have to say that wasn’t you?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, and mentally thanks Kholu for helping him sort out some of the mess in his head that has nothing to do with HYDRA codes.

“I want this to be the last time you say that, Steve.  Because there’s no line between the man they wiped and froze and beat and the man who killed for them.  There’s no place I can point to and say: that’s where they’re different.  And the man they tortured-” (there, he’s said it, happy Kholu?) “-that was me.  I remember it.  You can’t tell me that wasn’t me screaming, that wasn’t my pain.  Because it was.”

He wasn’t expecting Steve to crumple up like tissue paper.  It’s like the strings of his body have been cut, and ugly, gasping sobs tear out of him, sobs that Bucky has never heard from him.  Not even after his mother died.  Steve had surely cried back then, but never in front of Bucky.

“Steve…” All he can do is reach out, awkwardly, with his one arm, then scoot nearer.  Steve is still crying.  A little hesitatingly Bucky pulls him close, then, unable to know what to do, starts pressing kisses into Steve’s hair, he’s not even sure what he’s saying, it may not be in English or even words at all, but he keeps the tone soothing.  At last Steve’s sobs slow, and Bucky finally manages to get a clear sentence out. 

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve chokes.  “What happened to you.  It’s all my fault.  I let you fall.”

“What?  No.  Steve, that’s nonsense.”

“I let you fall.  And then I didn’t look, I could have found you.”

“Steve…”

“You were always pulling me out of trouble.  And when you needed me I didn’t look.”

“Steve, Steve look at me.”  Bucky cups Steve’s face with his one hand.  “Steve,” he says, trying to speak as firmly as possible.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You didn’t know.  You tried to save me on the train.  I never blamed you.”

“Then why did you stay away.  Why did you run halfway across the world?”     

There’s so many different parts to that answer. He’d been barely human or reasoning when he’d run. “I nearly killed you.  How could I look you in the face after that?  I stabbed you, shot you, beat you,” Bucky, to his own amazement. starts to laugh rustily.  “I beat you nearly to death, and you thought **you** were the one who should feel guilty?  You really did take all the stupid with you.”

“You really thought I’d blame you?”

“I blamed me.  I felt like scum.  And, also… I couldn’t really sort you and Captain America out.  I remembered Steve, but Captain America was the one I was seeing on TV and in the papers.  And I figured Captain America would see me as scum too.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Steve says.  “Captain America can be a real prat sometimes, but he’d still stand up for a POW who'd been tortured and who the government was trying to railroad.”

“I guess that’s easier to believe now.”  It’s easier to believe after the kindness the Wakandans have shown. 

“Bucky.  Listen, I’m not going to say it wasn’t you again if you don’t want that.  But it’s not who you are.  You are not what they made you do.”

“I am though.  I can think of ten different ways to kill you inside ten seconds.  Probably wouldn’t work with one arm, but I still think it.  I’m not the kid from Brooklyn.  I’ll never be him again.”

“I’m not either,” Steve says.  He sounds very tired. “There was a while when I thought, if I could find you, if I could get you to know me, I could get back to being that kid.  But I can’t.  He’s gone.”

“How rough’s it been?”  Bucky asks, gently.  It must have been very rough, he thinks, to get Steve to break down like that. 

“It’s been nothing like what you went through.  I’ve made some good friends.”  Steve sets his jaw.  He’s being stoic again.  A stoic Steve was never a good sign.  Bucky stares out over the lake.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to step in and see if he can still coax some of that emotional burden from Steve’s shoulders.  But despite the spirit healing he still doesn’t feel worthy.  Perhaps though he needs to think about what Steve deserves.  What Steve wants, even if wanting an ex-assassin with a missing arm and a messed up head is stupid.

“What HYDRA did,” Steve says slowly, “I see you can’t just act like it didn’t happen.  But if you think you can’t be anything else, that means they win.  Do you want them to control who you are forever?”

“No,” Bucky sighs.  “But I’m still working on who to be next.”

“It’s not the same I know,” Steve says.  “But I feel like I am too.  Buck – I…  When we met before, I was desperate for you to remember, because there was nobody left who did.  Peggy had just died and it really knocked me for a loop.”

“Peggy died?  Hell, Steve, I’m really sorry.  I didn’t even know she was still alive.”

“She wasn’t well.  Most of her recent memory was gone.  She knew me, but there were days when she didn’t know her own grandchildren.  When she died – I felt so selfish for missing her.  She wouldn’t have wanted to linger on and on like that.  But when she was gone there was no one who remembered.  Except you.  So I couldn’t face that you might not remember.  Or might not want to.”

Bucky remembers, back in Brooklyn, an old lady hearing of her sister’s death.  He remembers her saying, “There’s nobody left to call me Annie.”  He hadn’t thought of that when he’d seen Steve before.

“Remembering was more of a task than anything,” he says.  “I worked at it, but it hurt.  I’m doing better now, though.  Can swop good old days stories if you want.”  If he can make Steve happy, then it will make him happy too.

“Sometimes, maybe.  But there’s other stuff as well.  I don’t want to be stuck in the past.  That’s what fossils are.”  He smiles, a bit shakily, and Bucky, without thinking, smiles back.

“Steve…  I do need to stay until Shuri’s done with the arm, but after that.  If you want my help.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want to do stuff that’s right,” Bucky says.  “And…” One of them has to take the plunge.  “I want to be your friend.  Again.   And … maybe more.”

“I’d like that too.”

“Can you stay,” Bucky asks taking a chance.  “Just for a few days.”  He’s getting the feeling Steve could use a longer break, but it’s probably going to be impossible convincing him to take it.  “Wakanda’s pretty great.  They’ve even got flying cars.” 

“A few days, maybe.  I can’t take long.”  Bucky wants to ask why not, what it is that drives Steve to believe he needs to break himself for a world he’s already died for once.  But trying to push Steve too far right now would probably be a mistake.    

“A few days, then,” he says.  Then, “OK, Steve, maybe I’m rushing this…” Bucky Barnes’ talent for smooth talking was apparently one of the things that hadn’t survived the decades.  “ But my hut’s nice and dark, and if you don’t mind taking the risk some kids may come in-“

“Kids?” 

“Yeah, they think I’m a great joke.  Never seen someone this pale before.  Oh, don’t worry, Steve, they won’t get scarred.  Wakanda’s pretty frank about sex.”

“Could be a mood kill,” but Steve’s tone suggests he doesn’t really think that.  Come to think it makes sense that Steve, of all people, would be quite turned on by the chance of being caught in the act.

“One way to find out,” he says.


End file.
